“Maybe it was, maybe it wasn’t.” She lifted the beer to her lips. “Either way, it only proves how bad I am at relationships. It’s why I stopped trying. He wasn’t the first guy to show me that love isn’t worth the fight, but I swore he’d be the last.”
Which was why she refused to let him kiss her. She was scared they’d come to a messy end. And even with all of that, she had gone through a hell of a lot of effort to give him the best date he’d ever had. She’d shown him kindness he could never, and had never, shown another person. It was humbling, and embarrassing, and it made him like her even more.
He’d needed her to reminded him what it was like to open yourself up and let another person in. And, against all reason, he wanted that person to be her. He wanted all of her. Even if he didn’t deserve her.
“Christ.” He shook his head and glared down at his beer. “I’m sorry.”
She froze, her beer still at her lips. Lowering it, she swiped her hand across her mouth. “What for?”
“For not putting in even a fraction of the effort that you’ve obviously put into this date.” He reached out and caught her hand, and for once she didn’t pull away. “I’ll do better next time. I swear it.”
She swallowed hard. “It’s fine. I mean, it’s not like we’re actually dating.”
He’d become so good at hiding his desires and emotions that he’d forgotten how to voice them out loud. But with Maggie, he wanted to, and he wanted to stop pretending that she was just a way for him to keep his position. “So you keep saying.”
She sipped her beer, not meeting his eyes. “Well, that’s because it’s true.”
He had the distinct impression she said that out loud for her benefit instead of his. He also suspected that she didn’t believe it any more than he did, because it felt fucking real. Right here, right now, it did. “It doesn’t matter anymore if this is real, or if it isn’t. I think you’re fooling yourself, and me. Or maybe I am.”
Her breath whooshed out. “I’m not sure what you’re saying.”
“That’s because I’m not making any sense,” he said, frustration clear in his tone. He rested a hand on her thigh. It trembled under his touch. “You obviously put a hell of a lot of thought into this date, which either means you wanted to prove a point about how much I screwed up Saturday night—”
“What?” She shook her head. “No. Not at all.”
He continued as if she hadn’t spoken. “Or you care about what I think and feel, and wanted to make me happy.”
She swallowed hard. “Yeah. And so what if I do?”
“It’s been a hell of a long time since anyone gave a damn what I wanted. This thing we have between us? It’s no longer just for show. Not on my end.” He gritted his teeth, trying to think of the best way to articulate his thoughts without sounding like an idiot. “I want you.”
“Benjamin…”
“Tell me you don’t want me, and I’ll never mention this again.” He held on to her chin with his thumb and forefinger, keeping his touch gentle enough for her to turn away if she wanted. She didn’t. “Tell me you don’t want me to fuck you. Tell me I’m wrong.”
She closed her mouth, opened it, and said, “You’re not wrong. I do. But—”
“Shh.” He pressed a finger to her mouth. “You don’t want to want me, because you think it’s a horrible idea, and that I’m going to hurt you like all the guys before me.”
“Right,” she whispered, her eyes drifting shut. “And you’re my boss, so when that happens, it’ll be even worse. That’s why it’s a terrible idea.”
When he hurt her. Not if.
She was so certain that’s how they would end, and he wasn’t sure how he felt about that—besides the fact that he didn’t like it. “All great ideas start with bad ones. No one gets it right all the time.”
She swallowed. “But this is all happening so fast, and—”
“It’s not, though.” He removed his finger from her soft, kissable lips. Lips he couldn’t have. “I’ve wanted you ever since the first day you started working for me. You walked into my office with your hair down. You wore that black skirt, and a blue blouse, with a pair of black heels. Do you remember what you said to me?”
A small sound escaped her, and she stared at him as if she couldn’t believe he remembered what she wore that day. “I think I told you my name, and informed you that I intended to be the best researcher you’d ever met.”
“I think you’ve become that.” He smiled. “That’s how you made this happen tonight. You researched, right?”
“Seriously. I was just trying to give you a good night,” she said quickly. “It was nothing.”
“If you want it to be nothing,” he said slowly, locking gazes with her. “It can be nothing. Or, it can be something.”
“What do you mean?”